


Come and Find Me in the Dark Now

by angelette



Series: Hurt/Comfort Bingo 2012 [1]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelette/pseuds/angelette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus kills a Hunter and there are consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come and Find Me in the Dark Now

**Author's Note:**

> Written after 4x07
> 
> English isn't my native language.
> 
> The title is from the song On My Own by Ashes Remain

When Klaus’ anger subsides and he sees the limp body with twisted limbs on the plush carpet, he swears softly. For one thing, the blood is a bitch to clean, and he has to admit it his hybrids are really not the world’s most successful crew, but maybe they can be useful for cleaning at least, but who knows, really. They are sure good to be bait or to be blown up, but Klaus kind of hates that his army is a mismatched group, and nor that fearsome – come on, even Damon Salvatore can disable them – nor loyal. Not the family he wanted.

 

The other – and more important – thing about this inconvenient dead body is that it’s belonged to a Hunter. Klaus prides himself on being clever, resourceful and always being one step ahead of everyone, but deep down he knows he has a temper. It must has to do something with his wolf heritage and their aggressive behavior, and surely not the beatings and shaming he had to endure from his ‘father,’ and betrayals from his mother.

 

All in all, Klaus always has a plan B, a plan C, and etcetera, and has patience to most of the things, but sometimes when the red hot fury overwhelms him, he just snaps – and in the process usually there is some snapping involved, mostly annoying people’s necks. So that’s how he finds himself in one of his ‘guest room’ – as he calls it – with a very dead Hunter.

 

He doesn’t even remember the guy’s name – maybe Sebastian? – but he was as stubborn as the rest of the Five. Of course, they still have Jeremy, so Klaus isn’t angry anymore – oh, he is, he always has that all consuming rage inside him, warming his insides and fueling his hatred against everyone. This Hunter with his cocky attitude and a little experience in vampire hunting is just another victim of Elena Gilbert’s stubbornness.

  
Klaus doesn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed that this one girl can cause so much trouble and get so many people into saving her and the ones she chooses. Because Elena didn’t want Jeremy to be the one who completes his tattoo, they’d tracked down another potential and started his. Up until this little incident everything went well, again everyone granting Elena’s wishes. But the truly magnificent thing about this doppelganger is that she doesn’t have to manipulate people, no, they would march into the fire for her willingly, because she bats her eyelashes at them. He doesn’t really understand why everyone is so hell-bent on saving Elena, and sacrificing so much for her, but he intends to use it to his advantage.

 

Stefan will be in for a surprise if he thinks Klaus would let Elena stay in MysticFalls. Though he’s not on Team Elena, he certainly wants her to be human with a beating heart and lots of blood, and if he leaves her to be the Salvatore brothers’ rope in their ridiculous tug-of-war, Elena will end up dead again. He’s sure of that, he has experience in brother rivalry and tragedy and broken girls who get caught up in it.

 

But more to the point: Elena Gilbert would be dead because of him – yet again –, if he didn’t need her blood so much. The temptation to kill her is great, because of this bloody girl, now he would be haunted again by his ghosts of past.

 

~oOo~

 

He anticipates the hallucinations; he has plenty of excruciating experience. It’s almost like bearing a self-inflected wound, because he can deny it all he wants, but these nightmares are from his own mind.

 

When he first met them, he thought they were some kind of ghosts, and because he wasn’t really into his mother’s business, (his father didn’t consider magic a manly thing) he only knew there were spirits that help them, and on occasion warn them, and knew that in rare cases, especially on the Eve of Samhain, when the veil between the two worlds are thin, they can reach out to people they latched onto, people they can’t let go or who don’t let them go. But the first time he saw the apparition, he was sure it wasn’t friendly and wasn’t someone he loved, he never really cared for anyone anyway – expect Tatia, but he tries not to think about her, which is really a hard thing to do while Elena is sashaying everywhere.

 

So at first he called them poltergeists, he heard rumors about this kind of creatures – not from true witches, but back then lots of supernatural superstitions were considered natural and not frowned upon –, how there were such spirits that can take solid form and move objects. After his first encounter with someone who wasn’t dead did he figure out these were mere fictions of imaginations, but he still uses the term ‘poltergeist’ in his mind. It sounds better, it denies the fact that they are his demons, his weaknesses, not something from outside to harm him, because if you think about it everyone is after him, he doesn’t need any more enemies, especially not one from the inside.

 

As he nurses his wine in the dimly lit Mystic Grill, he notices someone sitting beside him and knows immediately it’s not one of the annoying ensemble, trying to ask him for help or kill him – though he admits they seem to give up on the latter, fortunately.

 

It’s his first ghost and as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, he desperately wishes that his resources have found another potential, though he knows it’s futile. They got lucky, they already had three, and his chances to get another one are slim at best. Oh, he knows it, but doesn’t dare to give up hope, because he remembers painstakingly well about the last time, the last half century he had spent seeing and hearing his biggest fears and doubts. And he is Klaus, the most powerful being on Earth, he’s cruel, he’s heartless, and maybe a little bit insane, but he is never weak, and he does not care about anyone.

 

Especially not about the scrawny guy who sits next to him, all tense and looking lost. Klaus doesn’t remember his name (it’s Elias Jorgenson), he doesn’t remember who he was once upon a time (the son of the blacksmith), and doesn’t know why he is haunting him (he was his first kill).

 

“You’re the one who killed me.” His voice wavers; like he’s surprised. It echoes that night when Klaus had first lost control as a newly turned vampire and hadn’t stopped until all the blood was drained from the young boy’s body.

 

In his mind’s eyes, he sees it all over again:

 

_Elias’ shock and fear, the bright red against the stark white snow, the boy’s mouth forming a surprised O as he looks down on his blood stained clothes. He heard the rumors about the Mikaelson family, that they were some unnatural monsters after making a deal with a great evil power, and though he didn’t quite believed them, it’s better safe than sorry. The other villagers found out about the white oak, and a few of them carried stakes with them._

_As Klaus was watching the life draining away from Elias’ eyes, he had little time for remorse, because an all consuming pain gripped him. Little did he know then about his werewolf heritage but that was the moment when he triggered his curse._

_The villagers thought they would be heroes if they wiped out the monsters from their home. But in truth, if Elias hadn’t brought that bloody stake, Klaus wouldn’t have found out about his mother’s betrayal. When the rage clouded Klaus’ eyes, he barely understood the words leaving Elias’ mouth in a ragged breath._

“You are truly a monster,” the ghost says now as he did in the past. Maybe he was the first person who had worded Klaus’ self-hatred; sure that’s the reason why he haunts him, because there isn’t a shred of regret in Klaus. He would have killed sooner or later, so why would he feel anything about his first murder?

 

Klaus doesn’t reply, he knows it wouldn’t change a thing, just sips his wine, and thinks about his future plans (finding intelligent and capable werewolves and moving to someplace nice, not Paris, because he knows Elijah probably would be there, but definitely some European country, maybe Hungary).

 

“You are an abomination,” the ghost continues. “Why don’t you just end your miserable existence?”

  
 _Oh, it’s the same dull drill_ , he thinks, _at least they could have spiced it up, if he has to listen to it another decade or so._

 

“If you think about it, there isn’t really much of a choice here.” Elias’ voice is like a constant buzz in his head, dripping with malice. Klaus finally looks at him, and the anger distorting the young man’s face is so out of character, it hits him: It’s not really his ghost, it’s just a curse. It’s so hard to remember it, when he’s under its effect, it’s like he’s going crazy, and despite all his effort to stay sane, he just can’t fight it. The line between what’s real and what’s not is starting to blur, like a chalk outline washing away in the rain.

 

“Your whole life is planned out.”

 

Klaus wonders if he should be ordering another glass of alcohol. For a moment he doesn’t know why he’s here, in a public place, why he isn’t sitting at home, surely he has better wine there.

 

“You really didn’t have a say in anything.”

 

Oh, right, he’s here because the humans remind him of what’s alive, what’s real. Even if he’s a potential danger to them, it’s a lot worse, if he’s alone. He can’t die, but he can wish it. And alone with the voices in his head, it’s so easy to forget about the damn curse, so easy to starting to argue with his own demons, while they’re tearing him apart.

 

“Niklaus, I know, you can hear me and you know, I’m right.” Elias’ voice is cold, more vicious. “You were always damned, and I’m not speaking about this, but the wolf’s curse. There was never any possibility that you live a normal life, you were born to be a killer. It’s not you who defy your father, who hated the murderers you had become, it’s in your blood, it’s destined for you.”

 

Klaus’ face doesn’t show any emotion, but his jaw tightens. Another bottle of wine sounds just about perfect. And if Elena’s wishes were so easily granted and they found another hunter, why can’t he be, too, lucky, and freed from this maddening poltergeist? A fleeting thought comes across his mind: _Because I usually kill people, and not stare at them with doe eyes. Maybe karma really is a bitch._ Still he doesn’t think he deserves this, no one does, even he wouldn’t wish it on his mortal enemies, that their fears, doubts, things they’re burying deep down with the utmost care came back to haunt them, like ghosts in a vacant house.

 

And it hits him how he really feels: hollow. Like someone had scooped out his insides, all that anger and resentment he felt and which kept him going vanished, leaving a frail shell behind.

 

“You aren’t special, Niklaus, you never were, you are just a pawn in your father’s game.”

 

The glass shatters in his white-knuckled grip, slivers scattering around with a cheerful clinking. Nobody notices in the Grill’s noise. Klaus wonders when was the last time he felt himself this abandoned and meaningless. Up until he came to MysticFalls, it was unthinkable that he’s sitting, sulking in a bar’s dim corner and no one sees him. But here, in the core of supernatural craziness, even the Original Hybrid could go unnoticed.

 

“You are nothing, but a mere boy, a foolish boy, who thinks he can control everything, but he can’t. You hadn’t become a vampire because you wanted it; it was your father’s idea. You were just a tool, and now that he is no more, you are only a useless thing left and forgotten.”

 

 _But I’m not_ , he thinks. He has a plan, his _own_ plan, where others are the puppets. He’ll have Elena’s blood, he’ll make more hybrids, and then he’ll… he’ll have others to control, he can make them do anything he wants.

 

And again, his thoughts revolve around Elena. How can the girl achieve that? The answer, of course, is that she’s the key element in his play. Tough a little voice says that Elena is just like him, she has a curse which defines her life – even the men she’s attracting to herself – but he doesn’t know it for sure if it’s his own thought or the ghost’s voice. And honestly, is there a difference?

 

He manages not to answer to his tormentor, but when the little pesky vampire group enters, he finds it best to leave for another public place. He doesn’t need Damon’s quips, however therapeutic would be killing him. What surprises him on the way outside is Elena’s thoughtful and serious eyes, as she watches him go.

 

~oOo~

 

“It’s no wonder your father hated you.” His mother’s voice echoes from the walls, and each wave is like a knife in him.

 

Klaus is at his manor, sitting in a corner, a miserable shell of his former self. The living room looks like as if a tornado hit it, the remains of furniture and slivers of glass are scattered all around him.

 

“You want a family so badly,” she says, “yet what are you doing to them?”

 

He tried to banish her, this embodiment of betrayal and lies, throw everything at her, it hadn’t changed a thing. He wants her to shut up, but he can’t do anything. If he could die, he would do that, he would end this.

“And they wouldn’t miss you.” Her mother says as if she hears his thoughts, which probably she does. “They would be glad, because all you have ever done is terrorize them. You don’t try to be a brother, all you want is control them.”

 

 _Yes,_ he thinks, _because they don’t see me as a brother, as an equal. Because of you, they see me as your failure. The living and breathing testament to your weakness. That you, of all people, who they thought was a saint, let them down. Every time they look at me, they feel your treachery’s hurt._ He wants to say all this, to spit it in her awful, judgmental face, but he doesn’t have the strength. Or maybe he has, he doesn’t know for sure what he’s only thinking and what he’s actually saying.

 

“You put them into boxes and expect them to respect you. Do you think if you cling to them, they will learn to love you?”

 

A faraway door opens and closes, and there are voices from the hall. He thinks maybe the Salvatores figured out that he has fallen apart and they came to take their revenge. But then he hears a familiar, high note, and a deep one is answering her. More ghosts?

 

But then he sees the figures: Elijah, in his usual crisp suit, impeccable as ever and Elena, small, but every feature etched with determination. She always looks like she’s on a mission, he realizes.

 

“Aren’t we supposed to help him?” she asks, and Klaus hates the empathy in her voice. Why would she want to help him, who ruined her whole life and uses her every time he can? She’s naïve and stupid, things none of the Petrova girls were.

 

“No, Elena, we aren’t.” Elijah’s answer comes in a harsh tone, but Klaus notices how her name rolls off his tongue. His brother was so foolish to fall for yet another doppelganger. Klaus would laugh at this, if he wasn’t on the verge of suicide.

 

Elijah leaves with Rebekah’s lifeless body, and goes out without a backward glance. The Gilbert girl is the one who hesitates, but Klaus closes his eyes, and tries to shut out everything, including his mother’s words about ending this all.

 

~oOo~

 

When Klaus feels he can’t bear it, he sits on the rocks above the waterfall. He muses on how easy to kill a human. If he wouldn’t be a hybrid, _The Hybrid_ , then he could just jump off from here, break every bone in his body, rupture his lungs, and be done with it.

 

But he can walk away from that, and now is not the first time he wishes he couldn’t. If only he can take physical pain, instead of the emotional turmoil. He hates that his own mind is against him and ashamed and disgusted with himself that he can’t change it.

 

The sun is coming up, painting everything in bright colors, so cheerful, he could be sick. It makes rainbows over the waterfalls, and casts a halo around his companion. He doesn’t look at her directly, but he knows her too well, he can imagine her in all her glory, but he can’t shut off her voice.

 

“You know, you can’t have a real life.”

He remembers the silk texture of her skin, the warmth of her body, the taste of her mouth, and the flowery scent that always lingered around her.

 

“No one will ever love you.”

 

He remembers the first time he saw her, the newcomer young girl with a baby in her arms. But her charms and beauty compelled everyone, and the fact that she wasn’t pure didn’t matter to anyone. And he thought he was in love for the first time, little did he know about that Elijah thought the same thing.

 

“I would always choose _him_ ,” she says it gently, but the words cut deeper than any of the previous insults.

 

Elijah was always better than him, he knows this, he was the perfect son, and even if his ‘father’ wasn’t gentle with any of them, Klaus sure got the worst of it. He wonders if Mikael always knew or just suspected that he wasn’t truly his son.

 

He looks at her finally, and his heart aches for the first time since that night when he learned about her death.

 

“Why?” he dares to ask, though it’s futile, it’s not really her, no matter how much he wishes it.

 

Her eyes aren’t sad and sympathetic and he isn’t sure why he had expected that. She just shrugs, a gesture so childish, yet charming.

 

“Elijah was always the one for me,” she declares with defiance. “You were merely a little entertainment.”

 

He doesn’t reply, the mess of his heart couldn’t be expressed in words anyway, that much anger, sadness, loneliness he kept for hundreds of years festering in him can’t be explained to someone with matter-of-fact terms. It can only be shown, so he leans in, and brushes his lips against hers.

 

He expects the thin air, the ghost disappearing and then reappearing somewhere else. What he doesn’t expect is the warmth he feels. He brings up his hands to touch soft skin, to caress a cheek. And when he opens his eyes, and pulls away, that’s when he realizes it’s Elena. He doesn’t know when she arrived, but he forces his face into his unbreakable mask and smiles his usual smirk.

 

“I’m sure you’re used to being mistaken for someone else, love,” he mocks, because he has to defend himself, he can’t let her see him this defeated.

 

She flinches, but doesn’t move away.

 

“And what do you want, now?” he asks, in his cheery voice, as if he was about to kill someone brutally. “Sure, you aren’t seeking my wonderful company, though I wouldn’t blame you. The Salvatore brothers must be a bore after a while.”

 

“You must know all about it,” she snaps back. “After all, you’ve gotten rid off Stefan pretty quickly.”

 

He can’t help it, his smile widens at this. He knows Elena is bitter, and fights off it with sarcasm and sour humor. He could say it’s Damon’s effect on her, but something tells him, it’s simply her.

 

“It has to be some pretty heavy disagreement that you came to me for advice.”

 

Elena presses her mouth into a thin white line.

 

“I came to ask for a favor, and don’t think I’m so happy about it.” Her voice is tinged with fury, and he’s surprised, because when he killed her for the first time she wasn’t this angry about it.

 

“I’m all ears, love.”

 

“Here’s the deal: I agree to be your blood bag, when you find the cure.” Klaus notes she used ‘when,’ not ‘if.’ It’s good to see at least someone’s optimistic about this. “But I have three conditions.”

 

“Three?” Klaus frowns. “Isn’t that a little too much? You know, I can just grab you, and compel you.”

 

She blanches, but holds her chin high.

 

“Where’s the fun in that?”

 

He isn’t sure he heard that right, but then he realizes that though Elena is predictably protective of her loved ones, and loves being a martyr, she has enough courage to be unpredictable sometimes. And as she said it, it can be fun.

 

“And your conditions?” He gestures her to continue.

 

“Leave Jeremy out of it, we’ll search for another potential.” She pauses a little. “You need one anyway.”

 

He’s shocked a little, but he knows it’s mostly for her brother, not him.

 

“How considerate of you.”

 

She snorts.

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to live with someone hallucinating the whole time. I mean, as you so cleverly pointed out earlier, it can lead to awkward situations. And trust me,” she holds her hand up to stop him, “I’ve had enough of ‘Hey, I’m under some kind of magic, and you look like some of your long dead relative, let me kill you or kiss you or both.’”

 

Now, he’s starting to understand what Caroline talked about, how Elena changed, but this is definitely not the sire bond. She always spoke her mind freely, she even told him to go to hell when he sacrificed her, but her natural flame is brighter now. And he realizes something else, too:

 

“Wait, darling, I know I’m the most irresistible man in town, which isn’t a big accomplishment, but to ‘live with me?’”

 

She shrugs, and it’s a defiant and stubborn gesture, still not graceful like Katerina, but more honest.

 

“I don’t want to live here. There’s nothing here for me. Stefan wants the cure to fix me, and I know I’m sired to Damon, but that doesn’t change the vampire me. Damon…” she sighs. “Well, he is Damon, and I can’t think clearly on that matter. And I want all my choices are to be mine. Caroline and Bonnie hate me, and Jeremy wants to kill me, so yeah, I think you’re my only option, which is kind of ironic.” She speaks all this in a rush, like it’s a physical pain to her, and maybe it is. After all she’s losing everything she had and everything she was.

 

“So that’s the second condition? That I sweep you off to some faraway land?”

 

“Basically,” she nods.

 

“And the third?” He can’t help it, he’s intrigued.

 

“I think it’s obvious.” She looks at the waterfalls, her eyes seeing something he can’t. She looks utterly lost, like Tatia on that very first day. “Damon will search for me, and I think you’re the one person who can keep him away from me, until I break the sire bond. You can compel him, if necessary.”

 

“But not kill him, I take it?”

 

He knows the answer, of course, and he gets a sharp look from Elena.

 

“I hope you know that there will be no coming back, even after you break your bond, even after you’re human.” He says it to hurt her, to get under her skin, to see that defiance in her eyes, that yes, she will want to escape him as soon as possible.

 

But the moments are passing by and she’s silent.

 

“I know,” she whispers at last. “Honestly, I don’t really know what I want right now. Besides this, I mean. I’ll maybe find out along the way.”

 

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he loves the sound of that, because he thought about the same not long ago. Go somewhere and find something that keeps him there, and keeps him together while his curse lasts.

 

He notices that he doesn’t hear his hallucinations while Elena’s talking to him. He tries not to make anything out of it. But maybe, just maybe, he can see now, why everyone is so willing to march into the fire for her.


End file.
